Smashball
by Stoned Rose
Summary: Response to a 2004 ? individual fanfic challenge that went roughly like this: "Han and Leia have a big date the same night Han's favorite long-suffering sports team is in the championship game. What does he do?" Just some lighthearted fluffly fun.


As far as Han Solo could tell, there were three distinct and highly unlikely events which were directly responsible for the bind he now found himself in.

Three.

Three chances. Three tricks of fate.

The first one took place earlier in the week, and it was in the form of an unlikely smashball match that had played out in front of an arena of over 85,000 screaming fans. What had looked like a sure thing for Mos Eisley, was suddenly and unexpectedly upturned in the final seconds of the game when seemingly out of nowhere, Rip Calkin's smooth skating and quick reflexes had allowed the All-Star to maneuver between to burly defenders and fire the winning goal between Liam Firestone's knees at the buzzer. The game-stealing shot ("One in a million," the losing goalie had miserably called it), had ensured the Dreadnaughts a surprising upset victory over the Mos Eisley Krayt Dragons, and had given Corellia it's first chance at an Inter-Galactic Championship in over two hundred and twenty-three years.

Amazing.

Han had been watching the game from his seat at a small Coruscant sports cantina at the time. "This year we break the curse!" he had then proclaimed boldly, and the other Corellian fans at the bar had lifted their glasses in hearty agreement. "Down with those damn Coruscant Cyclones!" They had cheered with boisterous confidence, and even the cat calls from an overwhelming number of 'Clones supporters could not dampen their spirits. After all, the long-suffering fans had reasoned, game-winning shots like Rip Calkin's did not happen every year. If this was not a sign of better things to come, then surely nothing was.

Then three afternoons later, the second of these wondrous occurrences took place. It was at a grungy sabacc table, several levels deep in downtown Coruscant. Lando Calrissian, on the brink of losing a small fortune (including his own ship) had watched in awed delight as the randomizer had inexplicably gone off at the last moment, and had turned the values of his cards into an almost unbeatable Idiot's Array. Suddenly, he had been holding a winner. Overjoyed, Calrissian had not only been able to keep his credits and save his ship, but he had also won another small fortune in return: 10,000 credits, a hand-carved talisman from ancient Naboo, and three tickets to the Inter-Galactic Smashball Championship game.

As far as Han Solo was concerned, better things were happening already.

"You, me, and Wedge," Lando had exclaimed happily, patting his friend Solo on the back. "Two nights from now, at the Coruscant Arena, watching our very own Corellian Dreadnaughts _play for the championship!_"

The three men had then whooped in excitement, and Wedge had immediately called for a round of drinks.

It was after the fourth round that a slightly tipsy Calrissian had leaned toward Han to ask a small favor. "Hold the tickets, buddy," he had said, breathing whiskey into his friend's face. "I'm around too many sticky fingered smashball fans who would *love* to go to this match. You're the only person I can trust with them."

Han had been almost touched, and watched as Lando had slid the tattered envelope toward him. "Sure," the smuggler had said, folding the envelope into the front pocket of his vest. "I'll guard them with my life." He had then patted his pocket for emphasis.

And at the time, Han had really meant it. Really.

But now those words seemed to echo through the smuggler's mind, and he found his eyes drawn to the stained, creased envelope that rested on top of the bedside table. It seemed to almost beckon him.

_You're the only person I can trust with them…._

Han wiped a sweaty palm against his pants.

Three unlikely events.

You see, it had been on this very morning—the morning of the Big Game—that Han had been witness to the third and final of these extraordinary occurrences:

Leia Organa had actually returned home _early_ from a diplomatic trip.

Now, usually, Han would have been overjoyed at her surprise appearance. He would have reveled in it. _Usually._ But right away she had begun to make vague suggestive comments about 'tonight'. And wasn't she excited about 'tonight'. And what were the two of them going to do about _tonight?_

Han's first thought had been to wonder when Leia had become such a die hard Dreadnaught fan. But that was before the princess had pressed up against him with a smile, and asked, "Do you want yours now or later?"

Han had opened his mouth in silent confusion, and his head had turned instinctively toward the bedroom. "What-?"

Leia had then pulled on his collar mischievously. "Your present!"

And slowly, a cold realization had taken over him: the princess wasn't excited about some championship game. Nor would she even care. No, _tonight_ was also apparently some sort of important anniversary for _Them._

Great.

So, now, here he was, hiding away in the bedroom, frozen in his own moral dilemma. Not to mention, he'd spent the last several minutes pretending to look for a present that didn't even exist.

It was ridiculous.

But then again, he _really _wanted to see this game.

Han bit his lip, his thoughts seemingly at war with one another. He allowed his eyes to once again fall on the creased envelope.

_I'll guard them with my life…._

He picked it up, absently feeling the greasy paper with his fingers. He could barely make out the subtle weight of the tickets inside. He wondered….

Lando would *kill* him. There was no question about it.

On the other hand, Han reasoned, if Leia knew he forgot whatever-important-date-this-is, _she_ might kill him, too.

Han's jaw clenched with indecision.

Finally, he slipped the tickets into his back pocket. Well, dammit, it was Calrissian's own fault for trusting him with something so valuable anyway. After all, he was an _ex-smuggler_! Wedge had certainly known better. He had taken his own ticket with him that very night. It served Lando right for being so naïve.

Han nodded firmly to himself, his mind made up. He headed for the door.

After all, the way the smuggler figured it, that whole Bespin thing was worth _at least_ a couple hundred favors anyway.

Leia arched up an eyebrow, her face a mask of disbelief. "Smashball tickets?" She searched Han's expression, as if desperate to find a punch line. "You got us smashball tickets? For tonight?"

The Corellian forced a wide grin. "Pretty incredible, right?"

Leia was silent a moment. The spotty envelope now lay abandoned on the table, the tickets poised in her fingers. A subtle ripple crossed her features. The princess was clearly fighting to maintain her composure. She took a breath. "You do know what tonight is, don't you?"

Han swallowed nervously. "Er…'course…." He tried another smile on her. Sure, he knew what tonight was. It was one of those _Obscure Relationship Milestone Anniversary_ things, but if the princess wanted him to get any more specific than that, he might be in trouble.

"And yet, you got us…_smashball_ tickets."

"Yeah, but-" Han reached over and anxiously pointed at the tickets in her hand. "Did you notice where our seats are? Look at that! I mean, we'll practically be able to wipe the sweat off Rip Calkin's face!"

Leia blinked. She wasn't impressed.

Han pushed on eagerly. "And see? It's the _Corellian Dreadnaughts!_ Corellia! Versus the Coruscant Cyclones! Can you understand what an _amazing _match up that is?" It was as if he was hoping his enthusiasm would somehow become contagious. "And do you realize how long it's been since Corellia made it to the championship? Do you?"

The princess opened and closed her mouth silently. She seemed at a loss. "But Han," she finally managed, "we've barely gotten to see each other all week, and I just thought…." She hesitated. "Well, I just thought that _tonight_ we were finally going to do something special."

"Special?" _Did the woman really not have a clue?_ Could she possibly fathom how spectacular it would be to finally witness the Dreadnaughts break that age-old curse?

Han gestured at the tickets still poised in her hand. "This game _is_ special, sweetheart. Most pilots would sell their hyperdrive motivators to go to this…."

Leia pursed her lips together. She eyed him carefully. "Please tell me you didn't go and trade in the _Falcon_ for these."

"Well, no…." And suddenly the smuggler felt a fresh stab of guilt. But Lando _had_ gone through a lot of trouble. Had almost even lost his ship again. Not to mention all those credits….

The Corellian swallowed a quick flash of annoyance. You know, after all of Lando's trouble, Han wished the princess could be a little more appreciative about it.

"It's not that I don't like smashball, " Leia said, her voice softer now. "I just thought that tonight of all nights, we would do something a little more…." She allowed her voice to trail off.

"Oh." Han rocked back on his heals. He blew out a resigned sigh. "Okay, well," he said, reaching for the tickets, "if you really don't want to go, I guess I can just give 'em to Lando or something…."

The princess stiffened, and she pulled the tickets out of Han's reach. "Lando?"

"Yeah, he might like-"

"Let me get this straight," she interrupted sharply, "you would give this present—this gift, which you insisted was so sincerely _heart-felt_ and painstakingly _thought out_—away to _Lando?_"

"Well, yeah," he said, now fighting to keep his voice nonchalant. "If you really don't want to use it…."

"If I-!" Leia dropped silent a moment as something suddenly occurred to her. Her eyes became slits and she peered carefully at Han's innocent expression. "This ticket _was _bought for _me_, wasn't it?"

Han looked downright scandalized. He threw up his hands. "Oh, of course! D-don't be ridiculous!"

But Leia didn't budge. "Was it?"

"Come on, sweetheart, really!" He shook his head at the very idea, "what you're suggesting…I'm insulted."

She gave him a look as if to say '*_You're_*_ insulted?'_ but remained diplomatically silent. "Good," she announced suddenly, "because you know what? I _will _use it."

"Leia, I-" But then Han registered what she said and fell silent. "You serious?"

"Yes, I want to." She straightened, as if to demonstrate her mounting conviction. "My father used to tell me all sorts of stories about watching the Cyclone matches on Coruscant and I always thought they sounded kind of fun."

Han allowed himself a slow grin. "Sure, smashball matches are great and-" His smile faltered, "wait, your father what?"

"Oh, didn't you know, Han?" Her voice with rang with false innocence, "Alderaan never had its own team, but we always got the Coruscant feed." The princess gave him a smug smile. "So, naturally, I grew up to be a 'Clones fan."

Han tried not to scowl at her. And for Leia, that look on his face was almost present enough.


End file.
